Blood Type
by Just Stay HIV Positive
Summary: He clenched his fist, anger building. No. There was too much he wanted to say. His hand absently moved to the still raw scar near the bottom of his back. **reposted, sorry it didn't work the first time**


Blood Type

Yes, yes, I know, I should be finishing my other story, but I was struck by inspiration and it just wouldn't leave me alone. I promise I am still planning to finish my other story, in fact, I've been working on it steadily for the past couple nights, but it's a very long chapter, (and the beginning is so goddamn hard to write when I just want to get to the middle already!) Anyway, hopefully this will get the creative juices flowing again.

**Not a slash, but could be taken as one if you really want to I suppose, however that wasn't the intent. I'm not a huge slash fan but I do love Kyle and Cartman friendship fics. (They're just so damn hard to find!)**

It had been an excruciatingly long wait. Cartman had never been a terribly patient child to begin with, but this torturous wait seemed as though it would never be over. He glanced at the clock on the wall across from his bed, hating how he had to strain to see the hands. Muttering a curse that hospitals didn't have digital clocks Cartman heaved a frustrated sigh and forced himself to remain in his bed for another five minutes. It had been about half an hour since he'd heard the last nurse moving about but he really didn't want to take any chances of being caught. He clenched his fist, anger building. No. There was too much he wanted to say. His hand absently moved to the still raw scar near the bottom of his back. He glanced at the clock again and decided he didn't care that the hands barely seemed to have moved at all. The large boy flung back the thin bed sheet that covered him and moved stealthily towards the door. He glanced up and down the hall and satisfied to find it empty, crept slowly from the room. He knew he would have to make it past the reception desk in order to get to the room he wanted and still wasn't sure how he planned to handle that. As luck would have it though, the receptionist was nowhere in sight. Smiling at his good fortune, Cartman hurried across the cold tile floor, his bare feet silent. The wing he wanted was still one floor up. The tubby boy approached the elevator cautiously, reaching for the up button. _Ding!_ The machine proclaimed and Cartman's eyes followed the sound of the noise to the numbers lit on top of the steel doors. Someone was coming!

"Crap!" Cartman muttered, ducking into the stairway door next to the elevator. _Damnit! Now I have to take the stairs! Goddamn Jew…this is all your fault!_ It was only one flight up, but Cartman swore it seemed to take forever to get there and he was severely winded by the end of the climb. Muttering a long string of curses to a certain red-haired Jew, Cartman finally made it to the top of the stairs. He peeked out the door to the elevator lobby and was once again blessed with a deserted floor. He crept past, glancing at an overhead sign to get his bearings. Not that he needed it; this was all frighteningly nostalgic. He could still remember walking down this hall to go see one of his best friends: a certain Kenny McCormick, who had been diagnosed with a terminal disease. He tried to push back the thoughts on how ironic it was that he now walked the same hallway, but this time with the intention of finding his sworn enemy. The feeling of death hung in the air and Cartman could hear the sounds of respirator machines pumping air into their doomed patients. He felt a chill run up his spine. The only way you ever left this part of the hospital was in a body bag. Cartman tried to slow his breathing which had become quick and shallow, his soft cursings now turned to himself for being such a coward.

"…you're as bad as that hippie, Stan! Come on Eric, it's just a freaking hospital, quit being such a goddamn pussy about it!" His tirade did nothing to ease the feeling in the pit of his stomach, however. He glanced at the name cards that were slid into the slot of the door. All the names were handwritten on little white disposable cards. It wasn't worth the effort to make a nice name card for such temporary occupants. The name was so messily scrawled that Cartman almost missed it the first time. He stopped and squinted and the handwriting, trying to decipher it. "K. Broflovski" Cartman swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry. He shook his head and strengthened his resolve, clenching his fists by his sides. He had waited long enough for this; it was time for some answers. He marched firmly inside the room, his face set in a determined line. The first thing he wanted to do was laugh. Someone was playing a joke on him. That had to be it. There was no way that the person lying on the bed with a million tubes, needles and hoses sticking out of him was that son of a bitch, hot-tempered good for nothing dirty Jew. There was no way. It had to be some kind of cruel prank. The doctors must have expected Cartman to sneak out of his room and come over here, and they replaced the real Kyle with this lifeless corpse. Yup, that had to be it. Cartman inched closer until he could see the familiar Jew-fro that sprung from the head of the prone figure. That familiar face, albeit with an unfamiliar pale hue, looked so peaceful. Cartman wondered for a moment if he had been too late, until he saw the slightest rise and fall of the figure's chest.

"Kyle. Hey! Wake up, stupid Jew!" The brown-haired boy hissed as loudly as he dared. For a moment Cartman didn't think his whisper had any effect on the unconscious boy, but after a moment the other's eyelid flickered open, almost uncertainly, like he was surprised to still be alive. Kyle's eyes squinted and blinked finally focusing on Cartman's face.

"Cartman?" His voice rasped out like sandpaper, but at least he could speak. He didn't need a respirator; after all, his lungs worked just fine.

"Hello Kyle." Cartman replied evenly, the feelings of anger beginning to burn in him again. _This isn't right…_

"What are you…doing here?" Kyle's usually strong voice was punctuated by feeble breaths, but his green eyes still held their fire.

"I almost died in a car accident, where do you think I would be?" The response was sarcastic, automatic, borne from years of animosity.

"I was there…dumbass." Cartman tried to keep his mind from wandering, but it didn't listen.

The accident hadn't actually been Kyle's fault. Cartman knew that, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to blame the redhead for everything that had happened. Especially since Cartman had been the only one injured. Stan and Kyle had walked away with nothing more than a few cuts and bruises while Cartman had to be toted away in an ambulance, semi-conscious from the pain.

"_Looks like that shrapnel pierced his kidney." One of the paramedics commented. The other winced in sympathy._

_"Ouch, well, good thing God gave us two of them, eh?" The other paramedic shared a quick chuckle with his partner while Cartman panicked. _But I don't have two!_ He mentally protested. _One of my kidneys was stolen by a tricky, good for nothing, rotten Jew and his faggy friend!_ But the waves of pain made it impossible for him to vocalize anything more than a pained mumble._

_"Poor kid." The first paramedic sympathized, "Why don't you give him a shot of sedative?" Cartman felt a pinch in his arm and the world swam for a moment before dissolving into blackness. _I'm going to die._ He realized. _I'm actually going to die because those bastards stole my kidney. _Cartman couldn't help but think how final this all felt. This was really the end for him. He knew he should feel scared or depressed or something, but all he could feel was a vague disappointment. He briefly wondered if the sedative was to blame for these apathetic feelings. _Damn Jew! I can't believe that asshole! _Cartman occupied himself with cursing the kidney-thieving boy for several more minutes, desperate not to let his mind wander to a thought that had been plaguing him ever since Stan had tricked him out of one of his organs. _Maybe he really does deserve it more than me…maybe this is God's way of finally getting even for all the shit I've put Kyle through. _It was a depressing thought to be sure. God sure had the worst sense of irony. Oddly enough though, (and in retrospect he blamed the sedative for this as well) Cartman felt strangely at peace with this conclusion. In some way he had expected all his evil deeds to catch up with him. _Karma, right?_ He thought sarcastically. He felt his mind teetering on the edge of a precipice, balancing between coherent thought and a bottomless void that he knew he would never wake from. _So this is how it ends. _In all honesty, he really wasn't too surprised. He could feel himself falling, falling, falling, and then…nothing…_

***

Cartman had been very surprised to wake up this morning feeling better than he imagined possible. The doctor told him that at the last moment possible, a donor had come forward. Cartman knew a little about organ donation. Namely that you had to have the same blood type as your donor. Another thing he knew was there was only one person in all of South Park with the same blood type as him.

"Why the hell did you do it?" Cartman demanded, the fury building in him again. Kyle smiled weakly.

"They told you, huh?" Cartman glared at the boy lying in the bed, hating him more than he thought possible. It wasn't supposed to be like this. All things considered Cartman thought he had been pretty lucky to live as long as he did without getting struck down by the hand of God himself. It wasn't supposed to end like this. Kyle was a good person. As much as it pained Cartman to admit it, even to himself, it was very possible that the Jewish boy deserved to live more than he did. Didn't Kyle realize that? What the hell had possessed him to give up his life for Cartman to live? Surely level-headed Kyle Broflovski could see the logic in this situation, so why? Why?

"Why?!" Cartman demanded again, suddenly realizing he was shaking the frail figure before him. He let go of Kyle's shoulders, but his eyes remained drilled into those of his foe-turned-savior.

"I thought about it…a long time." Kyle admitted in his strained sandpapery voice. "I didn't want to…but hell…it was your kidney…it's not fair…that I should get…three chances to live…and you should…only get one." He was breathing hard by the end of his short speech, but still managed a tired smile. "I should have died…when my kidneys failed…but I got a second chance…a few more years…of borrowed life…thank you." Cartman felt even more infuriated by the peaceful look in his eyes.

"No, goddamn it Kyle! You're the one who's supposed to live, you're the one who deserves it, you're the good person here, not me!" Shit, did he just say that out loud? What the hell was wrong with him?

"It's your life…Thank you…Eric…" Kyle's voice had gotten raspier as he talked and his whole body seemed to be shuddering with the effort of breathing now. It was the first time he had ever heard Kyle call him by his first name. He had always been 'Cartman' because Kyle felt calling him by his first name was too casual, too friendly. And they were definitely not friends. "Just…do something good…with your life…okay?" Cartman blinked rapidly. What was this annoying burning in his eyes? It was just like when Kenny had died, but this couldn't be happening. He was definitely not crying over Kyle. Hell no. Cartman was so focused in his denial that he almost didn't hear the noise. It took a moment for the sound to register. A long continuous beep of a flatline heart.

"No!" He screamed no longer caring who heard. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the sound of several sets of footsteps clicking hurriedly down the hall, but his mind was focused on the figure in front of him.

"You can't die, you asshole, this isn't right…this isn't…"

"Son, what are you doing here?" Cartman heard the voice but it didn't register in his mind. Several doctor approached Kyle's still form. They leaned over him for a moment, blocking Cartman's view.

"Come on, son, lets get you back to your room…" A man tried to pull Cartman out of the room, but the large boy refused.

"No! You can't give up! Do you hear me? He's not dead! He has a strong heart! He wants to live!" Cartman wrenched his arm free of the nurse trying to guide him away and rushed to the bedside.

"Call it." One of the two doctors sighed.

"Time of death, 3:46am." The other pronounced grimly.

"No! He can't die! Kyle, get up you stupid Jew!"

"Can someone sedate the kid, please?" The first doctor asked with a trace of irritability. Cartman felt a sharp prick on the back of his neck.

"Sorry son, but it's for your own good." The nurse said sympathetically.

"No! You can't give up! Come on Kyle! Don't die on me…please…no…" The world turned sideways and Cartman was aware of a dull pain as his head hit the ground and then blackness swallowed him.

***

_Bzzzzt! Bzzzzt! _His cell phone proclaimed. He groggily reached for the device, flipping it open without checking the call display. He immediately regretted not doing so when he heard the voice at the other end.

"What the hell are you doing, calling me at 4:30 in the morning, Cartman?!" He waited for what had better be one hell of a reason. As he listened to the caller, however, his eyebrow began to furrow in confusion.

"What the hell are you talking about, fatass?" He paused again, getting more confused by the second.

"What?!" He might have hung up on Cartman by now; any other time he would have, but there was something very different in the other boy's voice. It sounded upset worried even.

"Jesus Christ, Cartman, I have no idea what you're talking about! What accident?" He frowned as the voice at the other end rambled on.

"No fatass, if I gave you my kidney, I would die. Look, I'm tired, I have a geography test tomorrow and I'm hanging up now. Good night." Kyle snapped the phone shut, but couldn't help but wonder. _What the hell was that all about? I've never heard Cartman sound that upset before, not even when Kenny died._ He caught himself yawning and shrugged deciding to go back to bed. Well, whatever. Who knew what mysteries went on inside the mind of Eric Cartman?

**Ah it feels good to finish writing something again XD. So what did you think? I toyed with the ending a lot, debating whether to have the last scene in there or not, but since I'm a sucker for happy endings, I couldn't help it. My other alternate idea for this story was to have Cartman wake up in the hospital with a new scar where his only kidney is and have him come to the conclusion that Kyle stole his other kidney only to find out the complete opposite is actually true. XD**

**Oh, and a little note, this is sort of AU-ish since in this fic Kenny died in the hospital and never came back. Just seemed to make more sense that way. **

**I know they characters were a little ooc in this fic, but I blame that mostly on the fact that it was a dream and as we all know, we do stupid things in our dreams.**

**Anyways, let me know what you think, even if it totally sucks. (Also, sorry for the title, if you couldn't tell by now, I'm not very good at coming up with titles. In fact, if anyone has a better idea, let me know.) **


End file.
